


Parasite

by orphan_account



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Paul has become a source of tension between the drummer and lead guitarist in a doomed to be love triangle
Relationships: Ace Frehley/Paul Stanley, Peter Criss/Paul Stanley (KISS)
Kudos: 11





	Parasite

“You’re a fuckin’ parasite, man! Tryna fuckin' thieve my trophy from me!” Peter pulled Paul closer to his shorter frame by his hips.

This constant fighting wasn't helping.

1974 wasn’t going as well as the guys had planned. Hopes were high at first, but with their debut album not being received well by the critics and only selling 75,000 copies, that glimmer of faith and optimism each member had seemed to be quickly withering away. Not only that, but Paul Stanley had hastily become the source of tension between the drummer and lead guitarist, something he and Gene were becoming sick and tired of. The Demon had threatened to quit numerous times, and god knows they couldn’t survive without him. ‘Sort your fucking high school drama love triangle shit out or I’m gone’, he warned them, but the Catman and the Spaceman weren’t giving up so easily. 

Paul wanted out, too. Not of the band, but from the so called ‘affections’ of his two bandmates. It was nice at first, all the attention and flirting, the attempts at wooing and spontaneous sex… but now it was just a burden and a threat to the youngest member’s mental health. It was getting violent and abusive and he was smack bang in the middle, vulnerable and afraid. 

_“Trophy?_ Paulie’s not some fuckin’ school track trophy, cat! See what I mean? You treat women like _objects_.” Ace stood at the far end of the room near his makeup station, clutching on to a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. His skinny frame looked so fragile and breakable, and judging by the way he was slurring his words and stumbling in his 7 inch heels, he was wasted and probably even easier to snap like a toothpick than usual. 

“I’m not a woman.” The Starchild rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up, Paulie.” Peter told him before returning his attention back to Ace. “You can’t just let me be happy for once? You always gotta stick your dirty good-for-nothin’ dick in my business!”

“You’re already married, you selfish midget.” Ace took another swig of his beer. It was at this point Gene had had enough of the childish behaviour he was witnessing. Without a word, he collected his things and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Paul sighed. He knew when the bassist was silent that that was when he was at his angriest. He’d surely be hearing about this tomorrow at practice. 

“Call me a midget one more time, you bastard! I fuckin’ _dare_ you!” The drummer tried to stomp over to Ace and give him a piece of his mind, but Paul’s hand on his muscular arm stopped him. He knew very well Peter could destroy Ace. Setting them on each other and just letting them fight… It’d be like a pitbull against a chihuaha, and Paul would do anything in his power to stop that from happening.

“Paulie doesn’t love you. He loves _me_ and only _me_ , so hit the road, jagoff.”

Ace made eye contact with the Starchild. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking, and it made Paul gulp. Ace was about to say the wrong thing, about to reveal something and get his ass kicked. He just knew it.

“Why don’t you let the poor bastard talk instead of always talkin’ _for_ him, hah?” Ace crossed his arms at Peter, leaning his hip to one side and cocking his head with a smirk.

The older man looked up at his lover expectantly, fists curled tightly into balls. He’d be damned if Ace made him look like a fool.

“I-...” Paul opened his mouth, but he was almost too afraid to speak. This was too much shit for a 22 year old to handle. He should have just left right after Gene did. 

“I love _both_ of you, alright?” It was all he could say, and it was the truth. He didn’t want to have to choose. 

This was not what Peter wanted to hear. He grit his teeth and dug his nails into the palms of his hands. The drummer was aware Paul had slept with Ace before, hell, they’d had a _threesome_ together, but it had never crossed his mind that he may have actually _loved_ Ace. The fucking cheek, the _nerve_ his bandmate had! It was driving Peter insane with anger.

He turned to Paul, “You. Stay here. You.” He eyed Ace, “Outside. Now.”

“Pfft. You think I’m scared’a you, curly? Paul sucked my dick this mornin’, bitch!” Ace took his empty beer bottle and threw it as hard as he could, aiming for Peter’s head. The glass smashed against the wall behind him, and that’s when the Catman went feral. 

“You motherfucker!” 

Ace watched as Peter approached him, but he was far too drunk to react. He just stood there, and in the blink of an eye the drummer’s fist was crashing against his face in a hard blow. A gasp and a cry of Peter’s name was the last thing Ace heard before hitting the dressing room floor.

“P-Peter!” Paul covered his mouth, watching as fresh blood dripped from their lead guitarist’s nose. 

Peter stood over Ace’s limp body. He didn’t give a shit if he was dead or not. Just the thought of Ace and Paul being intimate that morning was enough to send Peter into a fit of rage and punch his best friend so hard his knuckles were bleeding. _Someone_ had to teach him a lesson.

After a few seconds of shocked silence, the drummer stomped out of the room, leaving Paul alone with their unconscious bandmate. The Starchild, now fearful for his own safety, rushed outside to the nearest payphone to call for help. He could hardly talk as he explained what had happened, his hands shaking and almost dropping the telephone numerous times.

“Ace!” He raced back to the dressing room, getting on his knees and settling Ace’s drooping head on his lap. The Spaceman’s makeup had been smeared from where Peter’s fist had made impact, and his jaw looked possibly broken. Paul tried not to panic, but it was damn near impossible, every second waiting for help feeling like hours. “It’ll be okay! It’ll be okay! I’ve got you!”

The muffled sound of an ambulance and a police car soon after made Paul start to cry. He couldn't hold it in anymore, his tears dripping down onto Ace’s beaten bloody face. He kissed his forehead, cradling and protecting him with his life, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you...”


End file.
